for Ronan

[iwasmore]

Noah had been surprised when Ronan approached him the other day after all the recent animosity. Ronan had seemed so concerned. It was almost like before, back home, when Ronan cared about him. When they were friends, and it was easy. Noah longed to have that back. He just wanted it to be how it used to be with them.

Ronan had told him to hold on, and left like he was going to go do something. Noah hadn't been able to hold on that day, but Castiel had helped him stay tethered, as he called it, giving him enough energy to exist better than he had been. He was still faded, still not quite the corporal shape he could be. But he did exist, and it was better than being nothing at all.

When Ronan didn't come and find him again, Noah decided to look.

He found Ronan in the dark in his bed. Sleeping, maybe. Noah kneeled on the bed next to him, searching him for signs of dreaming.

"Ronan?" he whispered.

Comments

[thedreamthief]

He's in Cabeswater.

They're in Cabeswater, he and Kavinsky, stretched out on the roof of his BMW and staring up at the stars. It feels like the back of a pick-up truck, no floor solid and not sloped, short walls on every side, keeping them locked in, safe and hidden like when he was five and out in the field with his brothers, his father in the cab with the music turned up.

He's hidden and safe here, hidden from the people who aren't even looking and safe from dreaming anything that could immediately harm anyone but him and Kavinsky.

It's almost fucking peaceful.

Ronan takes another drink and it tastes like Kool-Aid. He wipes at his mouth and turns his head, finds Kavinsky replaced by Noah. Noah isn't lying next to him, but kneeling. The stars are gone.

"You're still faded," he says, voice wet with sweet-tasting booze and disuse. Noah doesn't look as bad as before, at least. He isn't flickering, the smudge on his cheek isn't caving in.

His body hasn't been moved, at least. Ronan knows. He looked.

Why is he still faded?